or he was largely bribed by
Alexandrus; and now Agamemnon took his two sons, both in the same
chariot, trying to bring their horses to a stand--for they had lost
hold of the reins and the horses were mad with fear. The son of Atreus
sprang upon them like a lion, and the pair besought him from their
chariot. "Take us alive," they cried, "son of Atreus, and you shall
receive a great ransom for us. Our father Antimachus has great store of
gold, bronze, and wrought iron, and from this he will satisfy you with
a very large ransom should he hear of our being alive at the ships of
the Achaeans."

With such piteous words and tears did they beseech the king, but they
heard no pitiful answer in return. "If," said Agamemnon, "you are sons
of Antimachus, who once at a council of Trojans proposed that Menelaus
and Ulysses, who had come to you as envoys, should be killed and not
suffered to return, you shall now pay for the foul iniquity of your
father."

As he spoke he felled Pisander from his chariot to the earth, smiting
him on the chest with his spear, so that he lay face uppermost upon the
ground. Hippolochus fled, but him too did Agamemnon smite; he cut off
his hands and his head--which he sent rolling in among the crowd as
though it were a ball. There he let them both lie, and wherever the
ranks were thickest thither he flew, while the other Achaeans followed.
Foot soldiers drove the foot soldiers of the foe in rout before them,
and slew them; horsemen did the like by horsemen, and the thundering
tramp of the horses raised a cloud of dust from off the plain. King
Agamemnon followed after, ever slaying them and cheering on the
Achaeans. As when some mighty forest is all ablaze--the eddying gusts
whirl fire in all directions till the thickets shrivel and are consumed
before the blast of the flame--even so fell the heads of the flying
Trojans before Agamemnon son of Atreus, and many a noble pair of steeds
drew an empty chariot along the highways of war, for lack of drivers
who were lying on the plain, more useful now to vultures than to their
wives.

Jove drew Hector away from the darts and dust, with the carnage and din
of battle; but the son of Atreus sped onwards, calling out lustily to
the Danaans. They flew on by the tomb of old Ilus, son of Dardanus, in
the middle of the plain, and past the place of the wild fig-tree making
always for the city--the son of Atreus still shouting, and with hands
all bedrabbled in gore; but